Avarice liked to believe that every new Games began at the sound of a cannon. She pictured the tributes, all standing on their pedestals, proudly awaiting the end of the countdown. "3… 2… 1…" The cannon boomed, and Avarice could imagine the tributes running forward, could feel the pounding hearts and adrenaline kicking in…
"Avarice!" An angry shriek startled the young girl out of her daydream. "Focus, darling!" Ms. Frostweather, Avarice's teacher, gave her a disappointed stare. "Now, who were the two victors that began the revolution?"
"Katniss and Peeta." Avarice stared blankly ahead, letting the answer she knew by heart fall out of her mouth in a droll, monotone voice.
"Councilmen Katniss and Peeta. Now, how did they win the games, and how has their success affected our current generation?"
"I have no clue. Maybe if we got to watch some of The Games, we'd understand better. Who knows Ms. Frostweather, maybe The Games never happened and we're all just being brainwashed into thinking-"
"THAT IS ENOUGH, AVARICE." Ms. Frostweather screeched. One of Avarice's classmates' whimpered. "To the principal. Now."
Avarice rolled her eyes, got out of her seat, and walked the long hallway down to the principal's office. She was used to this walk. Hardly a week could go by without another outburst. She couldn't help herself. All this talk about The Games, and Katniss, and Perfect Peeta, but they never got to see anything? Never got to fully understand what the districts were? Never got to see the poverty they had been told of? It was ludicrous, absolutely unthinkable.
The principal's door was tall and wide, an imposing oak piece, but Avarice pushed it open with little effort. She was built strong for her age, fifteen, and she was extremely athletic. No better way to get out anger than aggressive sports.
"Avarice, again?" The principal looked up from her desk, where she had been typing something on a large glass screen.
"Mom, I can't help it. It's so boring."
"Honey, you can't keep doing things to poor Ms. Frostweather. It's not her fault, she doesn't make the curriculum."
Avarice sat down in the oversized chair in front of her mother's desk. "Then who does?"
"You know, the Council of Presidents. We've been over this a thousand times."
"Why won't they let us see The Games?"
The principal's eyes widened, and then narrowed. Her face became almost sad; like she had just remembered something she had lost. "You do not want to see that footage."
Avarice leaned forward and tapped her fingers on the mahogany desk. "All we talk about is how bad the old leaders were, Coin, and Snow." The Principal's face grew pale. "I know he was my great grandfather. He couldn't have been that bad, mom."
"He was. He was a bad man. He didn't realize it, but he was." Principal Snow put her head in her hands. "Please, sweetheart, please behave. You know how hard I had to work to get this job. You know that with our last name it is extremely difficult to find work. If you get in trouble any more…"
"I know mom, I'm sorry." Avarice rose from the chair and headed towards the door.
"Avarice Ellington Snow, just remember to behave. Please." She paused. "And know I love you."
"Love you, too." Avarice walked out, shutting the heavy door behind her. She balled her hands into fists. Behaving in class was getting to be impossible.